


Misunderstandings

by maybege



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - A/B/O, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Misunderstandings, No Smut, Sexual thoughts, Yearning, alpha!paz, omega!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26465083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybege/pseuds/maybege
Summary: On a journey to inspect another tribe, the reader gets surprised by her heat.
Relationships: Paz Vizsla/Reader, Paz Vizsla/You
Comments: 14
Kudos: 193





	Misunderstandings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This story is based on this ask that I got. It obviously derives a little from my first thoughts on it but I loved the concept that anon came up with of an a/b/o without any smut (which, I am sure, has been done before and I am by far not the first to do it). This is me dipping my toes into the water of alpha!Paz. It was a lot of fun to write during my holiday and I just, I am really proud of some of the scenes in it and I hope that you like it too! As always, let me know what you think!

Paz Vizsla was the kind of alpha you read about in history books. He was the kind of alpha that when strangers asked about what alphas were people would point to Vizsla and say “That one is an alpha, through and through.”

He was large and tall, his figure filling out the doorframes in the covert and more often than not he had to duck his head to step through them. Even though he was constantly wearing his armour, hard dark-blue beskar that all the little foundlings admired him for, one would always be able to smell that he was undoubtedly an alpha.

Personally, you had known Paz Vizsla for a long time now – at least from afar. When your tribes had merged, he had been the one you and your friends had been the most scared of. Not because he had hurt you or threatened to, no, but because he was big and faceless and, from what you could tell from his body language, always grumpy.

Now that you were older, you had gathered a bit more knowledge about him.

You knew that he was older than you, although not sure by how much. You knew that he belonged to the ones who never showed their face, that was the biggest thing. He still went by what your parents deemed to be the old-fashioned way of life.

Many members of your old tribe whispered about them – the ones who kept their helmets on, who adhered to the Creed in a way that was, in their eyes, obsessive. They were deemed strict and, while not necessarily cruel, there _was_ something harsh about them that intimidated everyone.

The Armourer was one of them, although she was seen as a respected member of the tribe even by what used to be your faction. When your tribes had merged, she had been offered the role of alor first and she had accepted. Since then, no one had ever dared to question her steadfast interpretation of the Creed.

Paz Vizsla, on the other hand, was someone who people were braver to speak out against, although you could not fathom why. He was large and intimidating and crude and he had a reputation to be hot-headed. A typical Mandalorian.

But he was not all that.

He was known for being a ... good lover. A good alpha to spend a night with although he’d never mated anyone and from what you could discern from the local gossip. He had never scented anyone either. No omega or beta or alpha had ever been his partner for longer than one night and for someone with his reputation that was very unusual.

And so, it had become the common consensus that he would probably remain alone. After all, an alpha who had not found a mate within two tribes’ worth of omegas had to simply have no interest in mating at all, right?

And although you were far too shy to ever seek him out on your own, you _did_ allow yourself to admire him from afar.

You admired him when you saw him in the training rooms by chance, either training on his own or teaching some of the foundlings. You admired him when you saw him feeding the foundlings in his lap, a whole hoard of them surrounding him, climbing on his shoulder while excitedly babbling on about their day and he laughed with all of them. You admired him when he helped some of the elder members with their chores,

How could a man who was so gentle be deemed harsh by so many?

Sometimes you got the feeling that he looked at you too.

When you had learned enough, you had been offered a position in the kitchens. You helped to keep an inventory on provisions that were needed and distribute rations if necessary. You always had a good way with numbers and even the alor had once complimented you on your quick mind – something that made you proud whenever you thought of it.

Your job meant that, even if you were not a cook, you could be found in the kitchens more often than not.

Soon after, Paz Vizsla had been called into the closest circle of the council surrounding the alor. It was a great honour and although many liked to gossip about him, everyone agreed that it was an honour well-deserved.

But when the announcement came that he had chosen to be responsible for the resource distribution of the tribe, the gossip had begun once more.

At first, you thought that it had been a joke or maybe even a punishment from the alor for some mischief he had once again conducted. But no. Paz Vizsla, one of the tribes greatest – if not the greatest – warriors, the one who knew the armoury inside and out, had chosen to work in the kitchens.

Where you were.

The first day you had let a couple of knives fall ins hock as he stood in front of you, asking for a look into the inventor books.

You had not been prepared. Neither for his mere presence in front of you nor for his scent to overwhelm your senses.

It had been embarrassing, the way you had been unable to bring out any words.

One of the cooks had only thrown you an exasperated look, probably knowing full well what was going on in your brain. At that moment, you had thanked the stars for your suppressants that probably kept you from throwing your omega scent around the room in an attempt to seduce him.

“Yes, um, of course,” you bad mumbled and led him into the small stuffy office where you kept the books.

The small room had only made it worse and your heart had beat in your chest so strongly you had been sure he would be able to hear it.

“You’re hurt, omega,” he had murmured cornering you into a shelf and _stars_ he had smelled divine. His touch had been the gentlest you had ever known as he had grabbed your hand and turned the palm up.

One of the knives must have had scratched you there but it had not even bled. Still, he had smelled it.

His thumb had brushed over your palm, his helmet almost coming against your forehead, “Omega ...”

*

“Where in the world have your dreams taken you now, hm, daughter of mine?”

You flinched, suddenly back in the living room of your parent’s quarters and not in that dark office that had smelled so much like him. Your mother had stemmed her hands in her hips, looking at you questioningly but with a teasing glint in her eyes.

Your ears burned in shame at getting caught in your daydreams and you shrugged, “Nowhere, really …”

Both of you knew it was a lie but you were grateful that your mother was busy chasing after your niece to question you any further. You sighed in defeat, already missing the feeling of his hands against yours but knowing that you would not be able to dive into your daydreams again so soon.

Although, they weren’t really daydreams, were they? They were memories.

It had happened. He had cradled your hand in his, he had called you omega and then he had flinched away from you as if you had burned him and left the room without the inventory books he had asked for.

That had been quite a while ago now though and it remained the only time that you’d really talked or been alone together.

You had blamed it on your fucked-up biology. Maybe both of you had had a weak moment that day which was why he was so trusting towards you. Why he had called you an omega as if you had belonged to each other. 

But no matter how often you dreamt of him calling you his omega again, you had never been alone with him again. Paz had spoken t you, but only ever in a professional environment and you were still too shy to maybe ask him out for a drink some time.

And now here you were: busy setting the table in your family’s rooms. Your parents had invited your brother and his wife and children over for dinner and you were excited to have all of them together. With your parents’ quarters so close to the kitchens you had not yet moved out, deciding that for the time being, this was as good a place to say as any. But with your siblings moving, it only left you three there and you were thankful when your parents had the opportunity to focus their attentions on someone other than you.

Which was where your niece came into play. Kandori, your niece, was already five years old now and your parents’ greatest pride. Any time she was visiting you was a good time for everyone involved. She constantly kept everyone on their toes and she had a blast asking everyone any kind of questions she could think of.

You loved her dearly, especially when she ran through the rooms, squealing with glee as your mother pretended to be a mythosaur chasing her.

Suddenly someone knocked on the door, heavily too, and all movements in the room ceased.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Your brother suspiciously asked and your mother shook her head.

But before anyone could take any precautions, your niece jumped over to the door opening it for the unexpected visitor.

Dark blue beaker shone in the light and your heart stood still.

“Hello,” he tilted his head down to Kandori, and you could hear his voice immediately softened, “I wish to speak to your aunt, is she here?”

“She is! Are you here to court her? Will you marry her now?”

Silence. Then – “No.”

“But she’s an omega and you’re an alpha, isn’t that the way of things?”

You watched as he kneeled down in front of her, “It’s not always that easy, Kandori. One day I’m sure your parents will tell you.”

“But don’t you think she’s a pretty omega?”

Oh kriff, couldn’t anyone take her away from him now?

Your whole body felt like it was paralyzed. You could not move, not one bit, all you could do was watch him from your place by the fining table, swallowing down your nervousness. It should not matter what he thought of you. It should not matter if he thought you were pretty or ugly or smart or stupid. And yet –

“She – she is. She is very pretty.”

Seemingly satisfied with how her interrogation had gone, Kandori skipped back into the middle of the room where the other adults were still standing. Your brother and your sister in law did not move at all, shock written all over their face. Your parents, however, were not pleased at all with the unannounced intruder.

“You’re here to speak to my daughter,” your father stated, clearly hostile.

You could not blame him. Paz’ smell was intoxicating, to say the least, already fogging your thoughts despite the suppressants and if you were affected by it you did not want to imagine how alphas reacted towards a stranger’s smell in their home.

But with his words, your father brought the attention to you and it did not take but a moment for all eyes in the room to be resting on your form by the table. All except for Paz.

You could have died from mortification. And shame. And disappointment. And nervousness.

Maker, why couldn’t the ground below you open up and take you out of this misery?

“I am. I am on Alor’s business,” the man explained to your father and only then turned towards you, “Is there somewhere we could talk privately?”

You nodded quietly and motioned him to follow you into your room.

It felt more like an escape than anything else. You could worry about being alone in a room with Paz later, for now, you just needed to not feel your family’s eyes on you.

Paz’ heavy footsteps sounded behind you and when you heard your door falling closed behind him you took a deep, calming breath. Which only made you more aware of his large presence behind you.

“What’s going on?”

“The tribe is thinking about merging with another covert a few systems over,” Paz started.

His hands rested on his belt as he looked around your room. Shame rose up in you. You had not cleaned it properly in weeks since the job had taken up much of your time. Clothes were strewn about, logbooks you were working on were scattered across your small desk and there were still the remnants of your half-hearted nest on your bed.

You hoped to the stars that he did not see it.

“The Alor has entrusted me with visiting the tribe and checking if a merge would be advisable for us,” the man before you continued, “We thought it’d be wise to have someone accompany me and … I have chosen you.”

“Me _?”_ you brought out, surprise colouring your voice, “Why me?” 

“You know our numbers,” he shrugged, “You’ll be able to see if they live above their needs, what they can contribute, _if_ they can contribute. And – I trust you.”

You could feel your heart beat faster in your chest and you were sure that he would be able to hear it too. He trusted you. _He trusted you_. That had to mean something, right? Surely, a man like Paz Vizsla did not trust many people and him admitting so freely that he trusted you?

“When would we start?” you asked, “I mean is there anything I’d need to prepare? How long would the journey take?” 

“Tomorrow,” he answered, almost bashfully, “I know that it’s short notice but –“

“I’m in,” you blurted out, “When will we start?”

“Tomorrow morning, I will pick you up. The journey will be about 10 sleep cycles,

When he had said everything that needed to be said he turned to around to leave. But he stopped by your bed, the blankets still in disarray. The heat rose to your face and you wanted to tell him that normally it was not that messy (a lie) or that you would get to it soon (also a lie). Before any of this could leave your mouth, however, a gloved hand reached out to one of the blankets, feeling the fraying fabric in his fingers.

“It’s not very soft,” he noted with clear displeasure.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, “It’s what I have.”

He only hummed noncommittally before finally

*

Paz had not thought that this was how the journey would go.

He had gathered the courage to ask you to accompany him only with the help of the Armourer who knew of his feelings towards the omega.

(“Vizsla,” she had teased him, “Surely, a warrior with your renown will manage to ask an omega to spend time with him? Sooner or later you will have to face her or else she might be claimed by someone other than you.”)

His first step had been to take the job in your proximity. Resource distribution and planning was never something he was very interested in but being able to spend time with you and seeing you work was incentive enough to convince him to take the job.

Paz had spent weeks learning the ways of the inventory, of where the food came from and how much was needed to provide for a tribe their size. But the longer he worked on it, the more he understood and soon he was an expert in his field to the extent that he had even surprised the Alor.

But his new position had not helped him to get closer to you.

Ever since that moment in the office – on his very first day, no less – he had kept his distance. He had crossed a line at that moment, had bared his feelings for you too much and too soon, his worry overwhelming everything else.

As soon as the ship had taken off into hyperspace, you had fidgeted in your seat, a frown on your face.

“Are you alright?” he had asked, unable to keep the worry from his voice, “You look a bit … warm.”

“I – I don’t know,” you had shaken your head, putting your hands to your cheeks to cool the skin down, “I don’t feel so good, maybe I’ll just lie down.”

He had tried to keep the disappointment to himself. You would feel better soon and he would still be able to talk to you then. And so, he had only nodded, listing as your footsteps had receded into the guest quarters.

Hours had passed since then, maybe even more. He really was not sure but he knew too much time had passed when an all too familiar scent wafted through the room and his body immediately tensed.

“Kriff,” he cursed, “Kriffing kriff.”

Weren’t you on suppressants? Most omegas in the tribe were and he had never heard that you had taken a few sick days for your heart.

But the scent in the room was definitely of an omega in heat. Even worse.

His omega in heat.

“Alpha,” you whined through the door, “I – I need you.”

His cock twitched in his pants. Images filled his head of you smiling up at him, baring your throat for him to kiss, his cock slipping inside your soft, wet heat. Of you taking his knot, again and again, crying from the pleasure but still asking for more. Of you whimpering into the pillows. Of you clinging to him, kissing his face and whispering of the names you had thought of for your children.

But the you in his fantasy and the you in this reality were not the same. You were not mated, no matter how much he wished for it.

You had been clearly surprised by your heat and the fact that you were asking for him now only stemmed from the fact that he was the only alpha around.

“You don’t know what you want,” he answered, loud enough for it to carry to your quarters. You whined, a high-pitched sound and he closed his eyes and tried to get the images out of his head. Would you sound like that when he teased you endlessly? When he kept you on his cock to make sure his seed would take this time?

His jaw clenched painfully. He stood up and walked to the door of your quarters. Your smell was fogging his brain, his vision, his hearing. Everything was focused around you now. Around making you feel good and claiming you as his.

When his hands hovered above the panel he knew he had a decision to make.

And he locked the door.

“It – kriff, it hurts,” your voice sounded through the metal. He could smell your arousal, your sweat. He could hear your heart hammering in your chest, blood pumping rapidly in his veins and he clenched his fists against his thighs, forcing himself to stand down. _Do not move. Do not move or it will all be over._

“I can’t,” the pain in his voice, in his body, was clear, “I can’t, omega, you – you’re not thinking straight.”

“Please,” you sobbed through the door, “Please, I am _begging_ you. It hurts so much.”

Beneath the helmet he squeezed his eyes shut, tears dripping down his cheeks. No battle could ever have prepared him for not being able to help you.

“I won’t take advantage of you,” he declared through clenched teeth, “I could never take advantage of you, mesh’la. Please, I – do not ask this of me.”

Silence came.

With the autopilot switched on he remained sitting against the door, listening for any movements, any sounds of pain. He might not mate you but he still wanted to make sure that you were as safe as possible. His mind was probably almost as foggy as yours at this point but he could not bring himself to leave you any more than he already had.

A whole sleep cycle passed like that. A whole sleep cycle in which he had to keep himself from storming into your quarters and taking the pain away from you. A whole sleep cycle in which he had to listen to you trying to pleasure yourself only to trail off in frustrated sobbing as it was not enough.

His head was leaning against the door, dozing, when a knock from the other side woke him. He sat up.

“Is everything alright, love?”

“Y-yes, it is a bit better,” you mumbled although your voice sounded hoarse and he could still smell the heat on you, “Could – could you bring me something to eat please?”

“Of course,” he hurried to say, scrambling to stand up and cursing himself for not thinking about what you might need, “I will be right back.”

He grabbed a few ration bars off the shelves, not bothering to heat up any soup. With your body temperature spiking, you would not want anything hot right now.

When he punched in the code for the door to unlock, he almost flinched back at the wall of smell that hit him. You smelled of arousal, a lot of it, but also of pain and yearning and kriff, he wanted to pull you into his arms and mark your neck with kisses.

You were cowering in the corner, a thin blanket from your bunk spread out on the floor as a makeshift nest. Although it was not really a nest at all and his heart plummeted at the thought that in your most painful moments, you did not have something to cling to. The fabric was already wet in spots and he was not surprised that you had decided to abandon it, it must have been uncomfortable, even through your blind arousal.

In a corner of the room, he spotted you. Your clothes were scattered around you and you had pulled your knees up to your chest, resting tour head on them. Your skin was shining with sweat where your body tried to get rid of the excruciating heat that was coursing through you.

“Here,” he whispered and carefully set down the bars in front of you.

You did not react.

“I - I will get you some tea, yes?” he tried to sound optimistic “and some blankets for your nest. Y-You need one, right?”

“Yes.”

Happy that you had responded at all, he rushed towards his captain’s quarters. Since it was his ship, his own room had much more comforts to offer and he ripped the blankest off his bunk. He would not need them anyway, not when you were fighting against the pain just a few steps next to him.

He came back with his hands full of them – the softest blankets and pillows he could find. He had even mixed a few shirts of his in between them, wanting to make sure that you had enough.

He knew you were not used to much from the impression he had gotten from your room but this – this was different. This was _his_ responsibility now. You were depending on him. He was in the position to make you feel better, at least a little, and he would do what it took to make sure you came out of this unscathed.

When he entered the room, you were nibbling on a ration bar, looking up at him with dark circles under your eyes.

Paz gulped. You ... you looked horrible. Sweat was pearling on your skin, your eyes looked glassy and your lips dry. The wave of arousal and protectiveness that hit him could have brought him to his knees but instead, he carefully set his offerings down in front of you.

But you did not move towards him.

On the contrary, you set the bar down next to you and your head lolled back onto your knees, a weak sound escaping your throat.

“Thank you, Paz,” you whispered and he could _hear_ how much effort it took for you to speak, “I – I will get to it … later …”

He knew that it was your permission for him to leave you again but he hesitated. You did not seem to be in any position to move, much less to build your own nest. And the way you had slumped your shoulders, looking so defeated, made him believe that maybe you had already tried to arranged yourself with the fact that you would endure this without any comforts.

And he could not let that stand.

His hands moved slowly at first, unsure of what he was actually doing. He had never built a nest before and only ever seen one with his mother when he had been very little. But it was almost an instinct now. He wanted to create a safe space for you, one that was soft and warm and would not hurt you in any way. And so, he did.

Arranging the blankets and pillows and shirts was almost fun in a way if you had not been sitting motionless next to him. When he finished he looked at you, hoping for a reaction, maybe some approval, but you were delirious now and his heart ached.

You whined, your hands reaching out to him. Another wave of lust hit him and he clenched his teeth against it. Not now, not here, not when you were like this.

“C’mon, omega,” he coaxed you into his arms, leading you to the nest, “there we go, all soft and warm and safe.” 

Your eyes were still closed and you whimpered, “’s too hot. Please, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he encouraged you, pulling you into his lap as if he did not hate himself enough already, “You will feel much better, you will see.”

Your head lolled against his shoulder and your nose buried itself into the crook of his neck. Being this close to you filled a hole in his heart that he did not quite know how to fill otherwise. You were soft and warm against him, fitting perfectly into his arms and it was only with great reluctance and strength of will that he slowly pushed you towards your nest.

Or tried to anyway.

“Please no,” you pleaded, hot tears soaking through the cowl around his neck, “Don’t leave me alone, please … I will do anything you want, just please –“, a sob wrecked your body, “Please don’t leave me alone.”

“Alright,” he caved in, knowing that there was no way he could just leave you crying on your own, “Alright but we need to get into your nest, yes, omega? Get you nice and cosy and – and make sure you’re comfortable.”

You only shuffled closer to him, uncaring about your nudity, and he sighed. With you in his arms, he climbed into the blankets and pillows, carefully situating you in the middle so you were surrounded by softness. You hummed in content and he smiled as he saw you pull one of his shirts closer to you.

“No armour,” you mumbled suddenly and he froze, “’s too hard.”

He did not even register when he started to take off his gloves, his pauldron, his chest plate. But when he was suddenly kneeling only in his briefs and helmet on the soft blankets, he knew that despite his best efforts, your heat had clouded him as well.

Without any words he curled himself around you, one arm wrapping around your middle while the other went to your neck, his fingertips scenting you slowly, hoping that it would do anything to ease the pain. “Is that alright?”

You hummed, your eyes still closed and snuggled back into him. “So much better, alpha …”

And with that, both of you drifted off.

*

Waking up from your heat was a struggle.

It was not even the nice kind of waking up. Where, after an exhausting day you fell asleep and you were woken up by sunshine on your face or your body being ready to move again. No, this was the kind of waking up that you had to work for. It took _effort_ to open your eyes, effort to keep them open and even more effort to try and move any part of your body.

Your head was pounding, your throat was parched and your belly was sore from all the cramps.

The cramps …

You did not understand how you could have gotten your heat. You took your suppressant diligently and you had never experienced any kind of heat that was so strong.

The worst thing was that it happened with Paz nearby.

You remembered how he had taken you reluctantly into his arms, scenting you slightly. It broke your heart, knowing how you had brought him into a situation – forced him into a situation – where he had to be close to you even though you knew he was not interested in you like this.

He had not wanted to mate you.

That should not have been such a surprise. After all, he had never even scented anyone in the tribe. Why should it be different with you?

He was not interested in you and that was alright. You could get over him. Right?

With a groan, you sat up. The blankets that had covered you, smelling of him, fell from your body and you reached out to pull them up to your face, breathing the last remnants of your mixed scent in.

So much for being able to get over him.

There was some shuffling from the cockpit and then you heard his voice. “We will land soon,” he called from afar, “You can use the refresher if you want, there are some water reserves left that should be enough for a shower.”

You nodded, forgetting that he could not see you, but you only wrapped the blanket around your body and hurried into the refresher, hoping that he would not hear you cry.

*

You did not talk.

Not when you landed, not when the ramp lowered, not when your feet first touched the ground.

Any hope that he had vanished when you had sat down next to him in the cockpit, clearly avoiding his gaze. He had crossed a line, yesterday, and this was your way of showing it.

Paz was not the kind of man who got his heart broken but now he would freely admit that it was at least cracked. A lot.

Being rejected by you was not something he had been prepared for. And although he knew that he should not read too much into your heat, especially if it was one that you had been surprised by, he had hoped that the closeness you had allowed him had meant something.

Apparently, it did not.

The sandy ground crunched under his boots as you entered the new covert. You were walking next to him, still not saying anything, and he watched you look around the new surroundings. There were children, lots of them, playing in the hallways and the sun shone everywhere.

“It’s so bright,” you marvelled next to him, your eyes hungrily roaming over every window, ever archway that led to the outside, “It’s so airy …”

 _I could build us quarters with skylights_ , he wanted to reply, _I would build you all the windows in the world._

But he bit his lip and instead focussed on the group of Mandalorians that were already expecting you. They were not wearing any helmets and he saw how they eyed him suspiciously. As if they had never seen a Mandalorian that followed his Creed.

He scoffed.

You stepped closer to him, your arm brushing against his, and his steps almost faltered.

You were afraid.

“What did he do?”

You nodded towards a man who had been shackled to one of the pillars in the market. People were just passing him like it was nothing extraordinary and so Paz had not taken notice of him.

Now though, paired with your sudden fear, he was more than interested in what this man was doing there.

The leader, a grey-haired man, furrowed his brows, his voice cool, “What do you mean what did he do?”

“Well, to be shamed like that,” you replied, clearly confused, “what did he do?”

“He’s an unmated omega,” one of the younger guards explained as if it was obvious. Then, he eyed you curiously, “Where is your mark?”

The fear spiked to new heights and Paz immediately stepped halfway in front of you.

“She’s mine,” he declared.

One hand settled on his blaster while his other arm reached out behind him to shield you. He felt your hands clasping around his as you stepped closer to him. Your fingertips grazed his wrist, trying to get him closer.

The blood was rushing in his ears and it needed a few calming breaths for the panic to settle. They would not take you away from him. He would kill all of them rather than see you chained and shamed.

“You are not mated though,” the leader interjected.

“Not yet,” Paz replied just as quick, “We were married just before coming here, we are … waiting for her next heat to mate.”

Although it was a lie everything in him rebelled against revealing such personal information. They should not need to know about your heat. It was none of their business – and none of his, his brain tried to remind him – and the value of an omega did not in any way, shape or form depend on whether or not they were mated.

“He is old-fashioned like that,” you added softly from behind him and wrapped his arms around your shoulder as you stepped next to him. The movement brought his hand right next to your scent gland and he did not hesitate to brush over it, trying to get at least some of his scent onto you.

“A newlywed couple!” the man clapped into his hands, a joyous smile on his face. Now that there was no threat of you being unmated, they seemed much friendlier. “I will make sure you get one of the nice rooms then. If you would follow me now, there is much to see and we only have little time …”

*

“I hope we both agree that this is not a tribe we will merge with,” you muttered as you followed the entourage on a tour through their covert. What had seemed to be an open and light covert just hours before was now nothing more than a prison.

It sickened you to your core, knowing how wrong their views were of your kind.

“Of course not,” Paz agreed next to just as quietly. His hand had found its way to the small of your back and he had kept it there for the entirety of the tour. “We will leave as soon as possible, although I fear we might have to spend the night here.”

Your heart froze at the idea of spending more time in this hell hole of a place. But what scared you, even more, was that you might have to spend it alone. Would you really be able to just ask him if he would stay with you? Again? After he so clearly did not want to stay with you last time?

In the end, you decided that your safety went before any kind of social anxiety. Who knew what they would try if they suspected you might be lying after all?

“Will – Will you stay with me?” you murmured, ears burning in shame, “Tonight? I don’t, I can’t be alone here.”

“Of course, mesh’la,” he assured you, pulling you closer to him when one of the guards looked back at you, “Of course, I will stay with you.”

*

After a day full of touring the covert and pretending like you were still interested in actually merging your tribes, you were led to your room.

As promised, it was a beautiful one. The roof consisted of one big skylight, letting the sunshine in at day and letting you see the stars in the sky at night. It was a nice change for once, to lie in bed and be able to look at the glittering lights that you had flown through just this morning.

Paz had offered you a shirt to sleep in since your clothes had remained on the ship, still coated in your scent from the heat and too risky to take with you off-board. You had accepted but had quickly come to regret your decision.

The shirt he had given you was worn and soft and smelled of him. It reminded you of how it had felt have him curled up around you, his fingertips caressing your heated skin. It reminded you of how he – an alpha! – had built a nest for you. Of how soft and comfortable and warm it had been. How safe you had felt, surrounded by his scent.

And it reminded you of how that had all been your illusion.

You knew better now.

You had been offered to him on a silver platter – an omega in heat, ready to take him and be claimed by him. And he had denied you. There was no clearer sign than that.

The subject of your dreams was lying just next to you. You could feel how stiff he was. How he so obviously did not want to touch you.

It was alright, you tried to tell yourself, you were aware of that now. You knew that he did not want you and therefore it would hurt less. You would not be so hopeful anymore because you were able to think rationally, right?

But your heart still felt like it was torn to pieces.

He smelled so good, like home, like you just wanted to curl yourself around him and drag your nose across his scent gland. It would be so good. He would wrap you up in his arms, his voice rumbling through the room as you talked about your day. He would love you like you loved him.

Tears gathered in your eyes. _This will not happen_ , you tried to remind yourself, _he does not want you that way so spare yourself the pain._

You turned on your side, your back to him in the hopes that he would not see the silent tears making their way down your cheeks.

Rough fingertips ghosted along your waist. You heard him shuffle, felt his body heat closer to yours and then –

“Mesh’la, you smell ....” he trailed off, “sad. Are you alright?”

Now, there was nothing that would ever be able to hold you back. Not when your own body had already betrayed you to him. When your emotions were so laid bare in front of him it only enabled him to trample on top of them. To gloat in your misery.

Then again, he would never do that.

He was too kind for that, no matter what others had to say about him.

Which only made it worse somehow.

He was no some asshole you were able to just forget about and be angry at whenever you heard his name. No, this was Paz. Who, despite his non-existent feelings towards you, had helped you through your heat.

A sob worked itself out of your throat, loud like a scream in the silence between you. Even with a broken heart, you could not pretend he was something he was not. He was kind. He was caring. He was a good man.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, your back still turned to him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to keep you from sleeping, I’ll just –“ Another sob.

This time, you pressed your palm against your mouth, hoping to somehow stop the onslaught of overwhelming sadness and embarrassment. You sat up, your feet swinging off the bed, planning to flee into the refresher or somewhere else. Anywhere else. Anywhere where he would not have to witness your breakdown.

“Don’t go,” warm hands grabbed you by the waist, gently coaxing you to turn around and face him. And like the lovesick puppy that you were, you did. He had sat up too, now, sitting in the middle of the bed, looking almost lost.

You were sure that you looked absolutely horrible. Your eyes were rimmed red with tears and you were biting your lip hard to keep it from trembling. He smelled so good, still, and you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself into his chest and close your eyes and pretend that everything was alright when it clearly was not.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” he asked quietly his hand coming up to cup your cheek, “Mesh’la, please …”

Despite knowing better, you closed your eyes and nuzzled into his palm, your nose brushing against his wrist.

“I fear you’ll laugh at me if I tell you,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his skin.

“I could never laugh at you,” he replied just as quietly, his forehead coming down against yours and a fresh wave of tears collected in the corners of your eyes. Here you were manipulating him emotionally, yet again forcing him to react to a distraught omega that he was not interested in.

“I’m sorry I made you touch me,” you apologized through the tears, “I’m sorry that you had to act like you cared about me. I’m sorry that – that I put you in that position. I know you don’t care about me that way and that I shouldn’t –“

“Whoa, slow down, love,” Paz rushed, suddenly sitting up straighter, the blanket fell to his lap and you followed him, unable to bear the pain in his voice, “What do you mean I don’t care about you. I do! I care about you, omega.” 

You laughed drily through your tears, “Of course you do, like a friend. But not – not like an alpha cares about an omega or ... or how I care about you,” your voice got quiet towards the end, you averted your eyes, not brave enough to see the disgust and rejection in them.

“You did not want to touch me in my heat and I should’ve – I should have respected that. You made your feelings towards me impossibly clear and bringing you into this situation now where you, um, have to pretend that you are my husband, I am sorry for that.”

For a while, he did not say anything. He just looked at you. You saw his throat move when he swallowed and with a deep breath, you braced yourself for the rejection that undoubtedly to come.

“Mesh’la, no,” he said, sounding (and smelling) desperate, “That’s not it at all. You – you really believed that I was mad at you?”.

“But aren’t you?” you asked him, throwing your hands in the air, “I – I was in heat, asking – _begging_ – for you and you, you didn’t want me! And then I forced you to lay down with me, to – to take care of me when you did not need to …”

“Mesh’la, let me make one thing very clear,” he murmured, his hand coming up to the nape of your neck, running up your scent gland to cup your cheek, “you never forced me to do anything. In fact, I – when you didn’t talk to me after your heat I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with me, that I was acting too much like your alpha when I had no right.”

It took a while for his words to completely register in your brain. What he said did not fit into your theory of him not wanting you. On the contrary, it seemed like … like he liked you too.

Eagerly, you rose up to your knees, your heart beating a thousand miles a minute. “You thought that I was angry at you?” you asked hopefully. If you thought he was angry at you but he thought that you were angry at him - did that mean that no one was angry at anyone? That it was all just a misunderstanding? 

“I did,” he confirmed, “I felt so bad for how – how I just took charge of the situation as if you were mine already when really – I should have just ... I should have just let you in peace.”

“You took care of me,” you protested quickly, confused by how different your interpretations of the same happenings could have been, “You made sure I was comfortable and you – you laid down with me! I was in heat and you didn’t make so much as an advance!”

“I needed to know you were safe,” he shrugged, his visor adverting your eyes, “I couldn’t just leave you like that.”

“So, we’re both idiots,” you concluded fondly, reaching up to lay your hand on top of his, brushing your thumb over his knuckles, “We – we like each other, right?”

Paz chuckled, “Right, mesh’la. We like each other.”

Then, his hand disappeared from your cheek.

“Close your eyes, please,” he whispered and you complied, closing your eyes with your heart racing from anticipation. You heard a hiss and then, then you felt his nose nudge against yours. He was so close, you could feel his breath on your skin, on your lips and if you raised your hand you would be able to touch him

“Can I scent you, omega?” he asked against you, face dipping down for his lips to brush along your jaw.

Oh, by the stars, you had to be dreaming.

“Please,” you breathed out, tilting your head to the side to offer him more skin.

His nose brushed against your skin, against that spot behind your ears and finally, finally against your scent gland. You gasped at the feeling. It was – it was everything. It was so much better than just his fingers. More intimate.

He had taken his helmet off for you. You felt dizzy just thinking about it.

“I was never angry at you,” he whispered in your ear, “not once. All I could think about when you were on the other side of that door was how I wanted to take the pain away but I – you were not yourself and I couldn’t take that decision away from you.”

He pressed the lightest of kisses on your scent gland and immediate shudders went through your body.

“I decided on you a long time ago,” you confessed into him, moving so you could scent him too. You kept your eyes closed as your hands rose to tug at the ends of his hair. He groaned against your neck. And when your mouth found his skin, mouthing at his scent gland, too, his teeth dragged against your neck in retaliation.

He pulled you flush into his lap, your (his) shirt riding up around your thighs. “Kriff, mesh’la, do you know how much you mean to me?” he asked, playfully nipping at your jaw.

You giggled as his hands dragged down your waist, tickling you.

“I’m – if you want, I’d spend your next heat with you. All of your heats to be honest,“ he whispered, “I’m yours till the day I die, you just have he say the words.” 

“I want that, Paz,” you answered honestly, a grin on your face that you were sure he could feel on his skin, “I really want that.”

“Good,” he murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck, his tongue darting out to brush against your skin and you keened, “my omega.”

“Do you want that?” he asked you quietly, fingertips brushing over your closed eyelids, making you smile, “Do you want to be my omega?”

“Only if it means that you’re my alpha,” you teased. His lips were on yours immediately after the words at left your mouth. His hands moved you so you were laying down on the plush bed while he hovered over you, peppering your face with kisses.

A satisfy rumble came from his chest at you addressing him like that and your whole body flushed with the feeling of absolute elation. Your alpha _wanted_ you.

It was all a stupid misunderstanding. He had wanted to touch you and he still did and he was scenting you and oh stars his teeth on your neck made you feel lightheaded.

“Say that again,” he demanded in a growl as his lips descended on your cheeks, your jaw, your neck.

“My alpha,” you replied, the relief making you feel ten tons lighter. Slowly, you reached out your hands to frame his face and pull you into him. You could feel his lips brushing against yours as you repeated, “my alpha.”

“Stars, is this what it feels like?” he asked quietly when he settled down next to you. His face buried itself in your hair and his hand had found its place in your neck, his thumb softly stroking the skin there. He had not stopped scenting you even for a moment.

“I think so,” you hummed. You had not noticed it at first. This feeling of being in a little bubble. You had been hyper fixated on him anyway, what with the excitement and everything. But now that your kisses had softly turned to caresses and your bodies had curled around each other, you could feel it.

You could feel how your heartbeat had calmed significantly. How it felt like you were floating through life. It was like your body has stopped searching when you had not even known you were searching for something in the first place.

“Good,” Paz replied, pulling the blankets over you. “Because I never want it to stop.”

*

Nervously you straightened the place setting on the table again.

“By the stars, child,” your mother groaned, “What is going on with you? Ever since you announced we have a dinner guest coming over you’ve been skittish like a loth kitten.”

Your ears burned and your hands fidgeted. “I’m sorry,” you said, taking care not to stumble over your words, “It’s just – This is really important to me, buir, and I hope everything will go well and –“

A heavy knock on the door interrupted you.

“Hello again, Kandori,” a deep voice greeted your niece and you peeked over your brother's shoulder to see him. There he was, dark blue beskar seeming like it had been polished just now and, in his hand, he clutched a bunch of flowers. He was kneeling in front of your niece again who eyed the flowers suspiciously.

“Are you here to court her now?” she asked bluntly, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “Because you said she was pretty and if someone finds someone else pretty then they to court them!”

Paz laughed and you knew that if you were curled up into him like you wanted to, you would be able to feel his chest rumble beneath you. When his visor rose, you knew he was looking at you and thinking the same thing. You smiled.

“Do not worry, copikla,” he soothed the small girl, “Today I am here to court her.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello over on tumblr! @maybege


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